


The Only Time I Miss You Is Every Single Day

by Marasa



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: (initially), Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Denial of Feelings, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: It wasn’t getting any easier.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	The Only Time I Miss You Is Every Single Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hope everyone is doing well! I'm currently working on a long fic about these two right now, I'm nearly finished with (it's about 63,000 words right now wtf) but I wanted to take a quick break from that not only to maintain my sanity but to also get this fic out to you all. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Title was taken from this song (you should listen to all her songs!): https://youtu.be/kPnjEanDSEQ

It wasn’t getting any easier.

Admittedly, it had only been a week but Jay was expecting some kind of victory after all this time toiling in this severe emotional withdrawal. The tears were persistent and the regret had long past outstayed its welcome. Frustrated, Jay sunk into the shameless recesses of internet psychiatry at 3am and found a mathematical calculation of how long it would take to get over someone.

This very cold and clear cut equation was one built upon the dividend of ‘2’; take the time you have been together and divide it by half. That was only as long as one must suffer before ridding their mind and body of them.

Mike and Jay had known each other for a year. Twelve months. So, if Jay’s exhausted mind could do the math correctly, it would take six months for him to forget all about Mike. 

Jesus. The last seven days had been bad enough. He was in for it. 

“Ew, you’re still in your room?” Jay’s little sister grimaced while standing in the crack of the door. It must have been late afternoon; she was in her lounge clothes. “It’s been like. A week.”

Jay pulled his comforter up to his chin. “Leave me alone.”

“It stinks like B.O. in here. Why are boys so gross?”

“Get out.”

“Wait.” She smiled devilishly. “Did a girl break your heart?”

Jay grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her. She ducked out of sight with an annoying giggle, closed the door behind her.

Jay turned his back to the door and huddled under the blankets smelling sourly of his unwashed self. A girl breaking his heart would have been easier for his sister and mother to understand. It would have been sorely expected for a loser like Jay to fail to keep a girl’s attention.

But it had been so much worse.

This was the messy aftermath of the end of two people who loved each other very much-- Jay still loved him dearly, even if it didn’t seem like it-- and who sincerely believed they were meant to be together. They had said as much during their first time ever getting drunk together, or Mike had and Jay was kind of hoping that Mike just knew by the look on his face or something.

They’d clicked so fast and so completely after meeting by chance at their local independent movie theater, which was a surprise considering Mike was confident and with many friends and Jay considered himself a friendless loner. Still, somehow, they vibed frightening well together and after a few weeks of knowing each other, Jay could think of nothing else than invite Mike into his entire life. So Jay brought Mike to his home, into his bedroom and gave him a tour of his movie collection and they had watched some behind the scenes footage on Jay’s copy of Mulholland Drive as they guzzled down beers, but they often had to pause it or turned the volume down so they could speak about whatever crossed their minds.

“You know when we first met?” Mike had asked, cradling his beer bottle to his stomach while sitting on the floor and leaning back against Jay’s bed, and he appeared softer than his signature scowl suggested. “After that  _ Room  _ showing?”

Jay breathed a laugh through his nostrils, rested his spinning head against the bed while looking up at Mike. 

“There was a point,” Mike said, slurring slightly, “where I took the time and just looked at you. I was listening to you, but I was just. Staring. And I thought,” Mike burped quietly, apologized even quieter, “‘He’s going to be in my life, for a very long time.’ I knew it like how I know I need to go piss or how I know I’m hungry.”

Jay smirked, eyebrows tilting upward. “Do you need to go piss now?”

“Like I know I need you.” And perhaps Mike hadn’t meant to say that aloud but his tongue was loose with the alcohol. Jay wouldn’t remember this conversation all that clearly in the morning, but he would remember the sentiment, the light feeling elicited in his stomach and the panic in his chest whenever he considered Mike, blushed and heartfelt, bushy-eyebrowed and lovely. “Now where’s the bathroom?”

Jay remembered when Mike had left that night, how he had felt tingly and giddy, like there was no way he’d ever be able to sleep again.

And the night Mike kissed him had Jay wanting to draft a manic letter speaking against sleep completely with as much fevered conviction as a dissatisfied Martin Luther had while committing his ninety-five theses to parchment.

Secretly, Jay was in possession of a poet’s heart and would consider the moment Mike had held his cheek and pressed his lips to his to be a moment when two pieces of the same soul fit together. Jay’s chest had physically hurt at that moment because despite the relief of their lips finally joined together, there was also the realization that they had unwittingly been searching for each other for so long.

That night, Mike hadn’t wanted him to go. He had cradled Jay’s hips in his hands and pressed his forehead to Jay’s, looking more vulnerable than Jay had ever seen him. He sincerely believed Mike might have broken into a million beautiful pieces if only the wind blew too hard just then. Jay found it endearing how Mike bent his knees a little so he was closer to Jay’s height but was still too tall. And Mike had swayed on his feet and made a pathetic little  _ ‘mmh?’ _ sound high in his throat when Jay whispered regretfully that he needed to get home before his mom started to worry.

Jay had stroked Mike’s cheek somewhat clumsily, because even at twenty years old, he was still new to touching another person like this, and he kissed Mike again to prove he could. Mike’s eyebrows had tilted upward and he looked so dreamy when they parted, and Jay played over and over in his head later how Mike had nuzzled his blushing red cheek and muttered, “Okay. Okay."

When things like that happen, no one ever thinks about their eventual end. Jay hadn’t. He was naive enough to believe it could always be like that, that they would be able to fall in love all over again each night they were in the other’s presence. He was already thinking about sharing holidays together and going on trips to film festivals and horror conventions some hours away in Chicago.

Jay had been so stupid.

Jay’s sister’s voice was muffled behind the closed door and down the hall as she complained to their mother that Jay still hadn’t left his room. His mom said something he couldn’t hear. Jay hugged a pillow to his chest.

They wouldn’t understand.

* * *

On the same website claiming to accurately calculate getting over that once special someone, it suggested also keeping a journal. Log the time, log your thoughts and emotions, and then at the end of it, when you couldn’t even remember what you had ever seen in that person, couldn’t remember what their voice sounded like, couldn’t remember how they smelled, then you could burn it and officially erase them from your history.

Because there would come a point when none of it would really matter and you wouldn't care anymore.

Jay didn’t really want that, though. He wanted to continue to hurt. He wanted to mourn over love and what would never be, because doing so would help remind him what Mike’s touch had felt like, how his lips tasted, that fucking broken look in his eyes. 

But Jay ended up keeping a journal anyway. Although his entries were usually very short, one word in some cases, he considered it progress in a process that frequently felt never ending.

* * *

_ Month 1 _

_ Terrible _

* * *

_ Month 2  _

_ I might actually hate him _

_ Or I’m trying to convince myself that I do _

* * *

_ Month 3 _

_ I tried watching The Room today but I couldn’t enjoy it. It reminded me of him. He’s ruined one of my favorite movies for me and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for that. _

* * *

_ Month 4 _

_ More than halfway done. Why do I still feel the same? Something better happen in these next two months or this whole thing’s a scam and I’m an idiot _

* * *

_ Month 5 _

_ Shit _

* * *

_ Month 6 _

_ I’m an idiot _

* * *

Jay hadn’t been expecting a text from Mike, though it was less of a text and more of an essay.

Six long months of absolutely no correspondence and now this. One glance to that lengthy message was enough to spur Jay into leaving his disgusting room and taking a shower, cleaning his room and changing his sheets, doing his laundry, doing literally anything else than reading that text. Still, his mind was racing throughout each of these tasks with the possibility of what Mike might have written. It felt like Jay was stuck in one of those falling dreams or like he was skydiving; the sick feeling of weightlessness throughout his entire body continued as he completed his once neglected chores which he did long into the night until he was sure his sister and mother were sleeping. 

Jay steadied himself where he sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor with his phone just ahead of him, a technological viper set on striking. Jay closed his eyes. He said a silent prayer to anyone that would listen that this message wouldn’t make anything harder than it had already been for him.

And then, bravely, Jay unlocked his phone and began reading.

Mike opened with a greeting.  _ Hey.  _ Not bad, Jay thought;  _ hello  _ was much too cold and formal,  _ what’s up _ would have sent him into a destructive fury. Mike claimed next that he didn’t want to contact Jay like this, would have rather liked to do it over the phone but he understood the very low possibility of Jay ever answering the phone if he saw it was Mike’s name on an incoming call. 

Mike admitted that this message had been written in a moment of weakness. Not a weakness in his emotions or in any rigid resolve but rather his going back on a personal promise to leave Jay alone, or that’s how he saw Jay wanting it anyway, and said as much and his wording was genuine and didn’t sound manipulative. Mike apologized for his actions, did not try to rationalize his perceived wrongdoing but simply expressed how he regretted all of that. Jay was made a little nervous by that statement, didn’t know what actions were included in reference to ‘that.’

And Jay’s heart was hammering as he got to the last line:

_ Would you be interested in meeting up and talking? _

What a gentleman. Jay had always known Mike as a gentleman, towards him anyway. Mike had a strange relationship with authority and other people their age, but he was kind towards Jay in ways not readily offered to the friends he had known for so much longer than he had known Jay. And sometimes Jay thought someone could easily make the case for this fact by saying stupid like, ‘It’s because he was in love with you.’

Jay set his phone aside before walking out to the living room and collapsing on the sofa where he stared at the black television screen, no intention of texting Mike back, at least for tonight.

* * *

In their short time together, it became apparent that they were a pair. Perhaps no one knew to what extent or if it was as traditional as a formal romantic relationship, but it was quickly understood that there was no more ‘Mike’ and ‘Jay’ but ‘Mike and Jay,’ together.

It wasn’t discussed who got to keep what friends. Jay had no attachment to the musicians and plugs in Mike’s friend group, but he had managed to keep in contact with Rich. He wasn’t sure Mike knew this. He hoped not but perhaps that was dumb considering Rich was one of Mike’s closest friends.

It was weird standing in Rich’s apartment. It was weird being outside of his family’s home at all after so long locked up willingly there.

“You kind of disappeared off the face of the earth,” Rich said, unabashedly looking him up and down but kind enough to not comment on his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. 

Jay shrugged noncommittally.

Rich brought him into his sparsely decorated bedroom and sat down at the desk against the wall. He took a swig of the half-empty Gatorade bottle open there, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before turning back to Jay. 

“He texted me,” Jay said.

“Did he?”

“Mm.”

Rich wasn’t easy to read; Jay couldn’t know if Rich knew anything about the text Mike sent him. Hell, Rich might have helped Mike write it. 

“And, what?” Rich asked. Jay just let it all flow out of him then, everything that had been on his mind, all his reservations, where he had been. It had gotten bad but he didn’t say how bad. It almost didn’t matter because Rich looked like he already knew. He read the message Mike had sent him aloud and didn’t know if that was ethical or not, just knew he needed help and advice.

“Do you ever think you might be a masochist?” Rich said when Jay finished his impassioned rant about this forced separation of sorts.

“I’m a sadist, if anything.”

Rich chuckled.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” Jay murmured. 

“What are you concerned about?”

“He hates me.”

“It doesn’t sound like he hates you in that message.” Rich sighed sympathetically. “I think you could argue he never hated you.”

Jay sat on the end of Rich’s bed. He clasped his phone in his hands, locked like a prayer and hanging heavy between his knees.

“Sometimes,” Jay whispered, like it was a disgraceful secret, “I can’t even remember why we’re fighting. And I just want to call him late at night and start talking like none of it ever happened, because it sometimes feels like it hasn’t. I was so sure at the beginning,” Jay swallowed, “but now… now I’m all confused.”

“And hurt.”

“It hasn’t been easy. Maybe harder than that.” Jay shrank under Rich’s imploring gaze, surrendering. “Fine.  _ Impossible _ .”

“Is that his t-shirt?”

Jay looked down at the t-shirt under his baggy hoodie. He didn’t immediately recognize the phrasing on the front, something nerdy and sounding suspiciously Star Trek. 

“I don’t know.”

Rich smirked. Jay wanted to punch him.

“I think you should talk to him,” Rich said. “I think he feels a lot of what you’re feeling, you just don’t know it.”

“Maybe,” Jay murmured. “Doubt it.”

“Trust me,” Rich said. “Just… trust me.”

* * *

Jay arrived ten minutes past the time he had agreed to. 

It was outside of a burger joint. Food and drink always made everything better, safer. Jay’s stomach was tender with nerves but it was somewhat of a comfort to know that he could hide from awkward silences behind a burger or a large soft drink.

Mike had been the one to suggest meeting here. Jay had agreed, wanting to keep all his written replies short. He refused to write an entire novel about his feelings. He did not acknowledge Mike’s own long form admission but said simply that he would be free on what was tonight at eleven pm. 

Jay pulled into the parking lot feeling near to having a heart attack. His nerves sky-rocketed as he caught sight of him, Mike standing outside of his car, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, eyes set on a receipt wading in a puddle of black oil. 

To see him there, mostly in the dark but illuminated in that bluish film of light cast from the glowing sign above the establishment, pierced Jay with an arrow of bittersweetness. 

Jay missed him. Jay wasn’t sure if that was fair.

He parked a few spots down from Mike’s car. He couldn’t be sure Mike jumped at the sound of his car door closing but Jay had and he had been expecting it. He kept his eyes mostly cast downward out of cowardice and uncertainty, but hoped his harsh expression appeared as one more intimidating and confident than how he felt.

Jay stopped in front of him, knowing this much at the sight of his raggedy shoes coming into view. The autumn wind blew with a chill piercing through Jay skin and sinking into his bones. He shivered, sighed shakily before finally summoning the courage to look up and meet Mike’s gaze.

Time didn’t stop; that only happened in movies. But it did cease to exist at all. 

The specifics of the past six months escaped recent memory but the emotions that had formed over that time were reflected completely in each of their eyes. It was everything all at once, all the hurt and the longing and the fear and the regret and the whole fucking lot of it, all of this without any regard for time and it was so overwhelming that Jay had to look away. He cast his eyes in the direction of the fast food establishment to where chairs were stacked atop empty tables.

“The, uh, place is already closed,” Mike said, and  _ his voice! _ Jay’s breath quickened. “Sorry, I thought… I thought it was open twenty-four hours.” Mike ran a hand through his hair, notably a little longer in an incredibly charming way, and sighed nervously. “But I talked to them and they said they’d stay open a little bit longer just enough for you to get an ice cream or a drink--”

“I’m fine.”

Mike shut his mouth.

Jay was shaky with anxiety and maybe frustration, anger, sorrow, at this  _ thing _ between them being ruined. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel this shitty. And Jay didn’t know his place in this break, didn’t know Mike’s, not really; could they be victims and perpetrators simultaneously, together?

Rather than stand awkwardly in the middle of an empty parking lot any longer, Jay walked past Mike to the curb back behind the burger joint. He passed close enough, though, that Jay could smell him vaguely. Cologne, cigarettes, something else. Weed maybe? Or perhaps that was the tangy-ness of an unwashed body beneath all that perfume, that being the rancid smell of heartbreak.

Jay sat down on the cold curb before he grew too dizzy. Mike sat beside him. The parking lot lamp some yards away hummed with electricity and an occasionally flickering white light. Neither of them spoke.

It was like acclimating to the atmosphere at the rise of a tall mountain, a gradual scaling upward and a pressure growing in one’s head. Jay wiped his nose with a finger and half-expected to find blood smeared there.

“Thanks for coming,” Mike said after a minute, maybe ten. “I hope you’re doing okay.”

Jay scoffed. “Is that a joke?”

“Me hoping you’re okay? Or—“

“Yeah, I’ve been doing just peachy.” It came out harsher than Jay had intended. “And how have you been doing?”

Mike rested his elbow on his knee, let his forehead fall onto the heel of his hand. He tightening his fingers at the front of his hair. “The past six months have sucked so much.”

“I know,” Jay murmured, staring down at the spot of asphalt between his feet. 

The space between the two of them, though narrow, was still so far. They dared not move closer to each other even though that touch may be the thing that relieved them from this torn up feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. Of course he was the first to apologize. Jay hated it. 

“I was the one who started it,” Jay said. “I was the one who stabbed you in the fucking heart.”

Indeed, Jay had been the one who, upon being offered Mike’s heart on a silver platter, had wolfed it down and spat it back up into Mike’s awaiting hands. Mike had confessed his love for Jay in the midst of yet another make-out session on Jay's bed, and then asked Jay if he would like to date him. Jay had been struck silent. Wide-eyed, Jay had answered after a too-long beat, “ _ What.” _

Mike’s face had fallen, abrupt as an avalanche. He had looked so hurt, but he had managed embarrassingly to reassure Jay that it was okay if he didn’t feel the same, that they could just forget about it, but Jay was already rambling nervously and when he was nervous, he was mean, and Jay insisted that Mike didn’t know what he was saying, that yeah,  _ no _ , that would not be happening. Love? Are you serious? Oh, come on, Mike. Stop that.

Now it was Mike who had been rendered speechless. He said nothing in defense of himself or his feelings after a certain point and the silence had been so agonizing that Jay forced himself to laugh but that just made it worse and he sounded fucking evil and Mike had left Jay’s room with a scowl and a slam of his bedroom door. The only good thing about this was that Jay’s sister and mom hadn't been home.

It hadn’t felt like it at the time but Jay soon realized just how unfair it was to resent Mike for hooking up with his ex after being so viciously rejected. Jay only knew of this event because said ex was a jealous bitch who texted Jay from Mike’s phone, complete with a picture of Mike sleeping, shirtless, on his stomach in a bed that was not his.

It had been brutal then how Jay, in a panicked, heartbroken frenzy, called Mike up the next morning and insisted he’d never be with him. Saying this had hurt him too because he had recently begun believing that he had made a mistake by rejecting Mike’s feelings. But now it was too late. He was already yelling into the phone that he would never be with Mike, absolutely not, never, so get it out of your  _ fucking  _ head. He asserted Mike didn’t care about him and that Mike didn’t know what he wanted from him, but it was probably nothing more than getting into his pants. 

Jay was not willing to hear any of Mike’s reasoning or defense. He was done. Forever. 

Jay covered his face with his hands and tried not to fall apart right there.

“I wasn’t innocent,” Mike said. “I was stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid _ , _ ” Jay spat, letting his hands fall back into his lap. “I mean. I said no. I didn’t even leave it at ‘no,’ though. I just. Went off. That was answer enough to give you the green light to fuck whoever you wanted.”

“I didn’t want to  _ fuck _ her, not like that.” Mike said this like it tasted bad. “I was sad. But that’s not an excuse.”

“Don’t take all the fucking blame. Stop being a hero and let me, just. Sit in my shit.”

Mike breathed a laugh out of his nose. “And how is sitting in your own shit?”

Jay tried to answer in a level voice but it broke halfway through. “It sucks.”

Now Mike scooched over and brought Jay against his chest and into the safety of his arms. It was already warmer here, and it smelled overwhelmingly of him. 

There had been a night a few weeks before their fight. They had been running in the rain. Jay couldn’t really remember how they found themselves out that late at night; around that time it just felt like they needed to be out together at every possible moment. They found refuge under the covered pavilion at a local park, empty at that hour and during the state of the weather. The thunder shook the metal roof and sent a new shiver rippling through their dripping bodies, and Jay cursed and Mike laughed and hadn’t Mike held Jay so sweetly against his chest, arms wrapped around Jay’s shoulders and face pressed against the side of Jay’s head, hot breath warming the frigid shell of his ear.

Jay remembered clearly not fearing the storm, not when Mike’s arms were around him. It was like Mike would fight off the lightning to protect him, would fight off a fucking tornado with his bare hands if he had to. And now Jay felt that same safety, and he could have peeked up from Mike’s chest and found the world collapsing all around them but it wouldn’t have mattered because Mike wouldn’t let the destruction touch him. 

Mike held tight to him but Jay might have been holding tighter.

There was nothing to say that could not be felt fully in their embrace. Jay’s breath was quick and his fingers curled and clawed at Mike’s shoulder blades. He could feel Mike’s heart racing in his chest pressed against Jay’s, his quick pulse like a bird struggling in the grasp of a tight fist.

“I said no,” Jay whispered so softly that it was like the whistle of evening wind, “not because I don’t feel the same, so don’t, don’t think I don’t feel the same. I said no, because I was scared.”

Mike’s fingers stroked the back of Jay’s head, his neck. “Scared of what?”

“I don’t know.” Jay’s face broke into a look that was the same as that which proceeded weeping. And while he was safe to wear this expression as long as it was hidden against Mike’s chest, it was clearly heard in his tone. “I was scared I would disappoint you.”

“No.” Mike curled up tighter around him. “Jay, you’d never—“

“I know you don’t think so now, but you would.”

“We just got done being apart for six months and we couldn’t stand it.”

“But you weren’t around me. Just because this was bad doesn’t mean the alternative would be any better.”

“There’s no way of knowing that.”

“There’s a good chance.” Jay breathed hard out of his nose, lungs stuttering. “I’ve never dated anyone before. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be attentive or like, a good person in a relationship. I don’t know if I’m supposed to text you everyday or if that’s clingy. Do I leave you alone most of the time and only see you on the weekends or, like-- like, how will you not get tired of me? And am I not supposed to get jealous when you’re around your exes or people you sleep with? Or am I just supposed to worry that they’re better for you than I am? I don’t know what’s normal.”

“I don’t know what’s normal, either,” Mike murmured, “but we could learn. We could learn what works for us. Together.”

Jay sat back and away from Mike’s chest. Mike’s arms loosened around him but didn’t let him go, especially not when Jay found new purchase for his hands on his biceps. Jay glanced up at him, looked aside with a tired expression.

“I’m saying we could  _ try _ ,” Mike said, eyebrows tilted upward and sincerity twinkling in his eyes alongside the white light cast nearby. “I’m still ready to try, but only if you are.”

“And if I said no,” Jay said. Mike’s fingers twitched where they were curled at his lower back.

“Then we could just be friends. That’s okay too.”

“I don’t want to be just friends, though.  _ Mike. _ ”

“What?” Mike whispered, concerned. “Talk to me.”

“The point I’m trying to make is-- My point is if I said no, you’d be ready to go back to what we have been doing.”

“If that’s what you wanted,” Mike said, “then yes.”

“You’d hurt. For me.”

Mike breathed a pained laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t feel good. But yeah. If that’s what you wanted. If that’s what would make you happy, Jay.”

Mike really did love him. He wasn’t fucking around. And it was terrifying but so exciting. 

“Hurting you makes me miserable.” Jay’s fingers dug hard into Mike’s biceps. “And being away from you fucking blows.”

Mike smiled gently. Jay did too. Their foreheads met and it was like two planets entering into the same orbit.

“I…” Jay’s voice was hushed, fanning across Mike’s mouth mere inches away from his own. “Mike, I-- I love--”

“You don’t have to say it,” Mike said. It was a relief not having to say those three words when Jay feared the intensity of them would cause something of an earthquake of inconsolable emotion to tear through him.

So instead of saying those words, Jay showed him by leaning in and kissing him.

It was electricity and flame and it tasted like the rain and the salt of too many tears shed and it was beautiful in the way decaying buildings were beautiful. Jay breathed a dry sob into Mike’s mouth and Mike whimpered, swallowed it. It was so good, so natural. It felt like this was how it was supposed to be, the bigger picture, and Jay felt stupid for having not being brave enough to try to foster this burning fire with Mike, a fire that was uniquely theirs and engulfing their insides ecstatically.

Yes, Jay thought, he was willing and ready to give this a try.


End file.
